AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After the night when Dylan revealed the darkest corners of his life to her, telling him about her band seemed tiny in comparison. He felt guilty about the suicide of a young friend while she played in a band, wearing a bright pink wig.
Maybe there was a part of her that was still somewhat afraid to tell him, despite how minuscule it was of a secret. They would go back and forth between each other’s places, hanging out, making love, laughing, and getting closer and closer each day. On nights when she played gigs, she blamed work and just hoped he wouldn’t pop by her place as a surprise.
On one particularly chilly night, Rose and her bandmates had played a fun gig with an enthusiastic crowd. As usual, the venue wasn’t huge, but the crowd was amped. Rose even did a longer guitar solo, encouraged by passionate fans to go on in freestyle to the sound of beckoning cheers.
Rose got off the stage with her friends, exhilarated. She adored teaching children at Prescott, as well as contributing to the cause for disadvantaged youth. But nothing thrilled her more, pumped her full of more adrenaline than being on that stage, her mascara running down her face and sweat dripping onto her guitar strings.
The girls participated in a ritual that they had performed ever since they started gaining local fame; they went to the bar, chose a random shot, and all did one together. Wind, Moon, Fire, and she were all riveted from the set, laughing as they read out the shot names from over the bar.
“A blow job sounds great right about now,” Wind muttered.
Rose covered her mouth as if she had never heard the term before, feigning innocence with wide bright eyes. Moon shoved her playfully by the shoulder.
“Yeah, like you haven’t been the one more familiar with those lately!” Moon quipped, shooting her friend a wink.
Rose lowered her hand from her mouth, then looked off into the distance with a look of complete chastity. She brought her hand to her heart and spoke in a high, valley-girl accent.
“Oh, I would have no idea what you could be referring to,” Rose said. “I am, after all, leaving tonight for the convent.”
Everyone burst out into a loud yelp of laughter, including Rose herself. Her cheeks ached from smiling so widely, her sides splitting from the sheer delight it was to giggle without care.
“All right, four blow jobs it is!” Fire pleaded to the barkeep.
The bartender was a cute redhead with eyes almost as bright as Rose’s. She swiftly poured the ladies some amaretto and Irish cream liqueur, then, with great delicacy and precision, topped it with some generous whipped cream.
Rose reached in for her cash from her bra when Moon held out her hand and shook it.
“Nah, uh,” Moon asserted. “This one is on us; you killed it out there tonight.”
Rose’s smile somehow grew even larger, stretching beyond the bottom of her earlobes. Hearing compliments from people she considered some of the most talented musicians she’d ever met set fireworks off in her heart.
She touched her chest again, feeling a warmth sprouting.
The bartender placed four blow-job shots on the bar, and the women approached, giggling and making the most derogatory comments imagined.
“No hands, ladies!” the bartender announced.
People from the crowd had started gathering around, and Rose shook her head, feeling a blush blooming on her cheeks.
“This is our encore,” Rose remarked, triggering snorts of snickers from her bandmates.
They all proceeded to just go for it, inspired by the flawless set and consistent encouragement they’d received since they first walked on stage. She wrapped her lips around the glass, tasted the whipped cream, and then threw the glass backward.
The women swallowed the shot whole as hordes of people around them jeered. Rose felt some of the amaretto streaming down her cheeks, and she wiped it away with a wink.
“Well, that took me back!” Wind joked.
They chatted for a bit at the bar while fans came from every angle and started several bouts of small talk. As Rose dodged sad attempts at flirting, she began to feel a strange sensation creeping up from her elbow and to the tips of her fingers.
A man was sitting at a table alone, wearing a jacket that shined in a tacky gold beneath the dim lights of the room. From Rose’s peripheral vision, the jacket looked two sizes too small for him. He wore glasses with purple lenses that were mostly transparent, revealing eyes with deep sockets, drowning whatever light that remained.
Rose realized that she flicked her eyes too close to him, flying too close to the sun as any woman could understand. The man revealed a closely pressed together set of teeth and then began to walk over to her at the bar while her friends were busy with fans.Rose turned away, facing the bartender. Wind touched her arm, sensing something wrong with her.
“You good?” Wind asked, eyebrows furrowed.
The man was holding a card, which could be good for business. She gazed at her friend and tried to give a reassuring smile despite the negative vibe she was already detecting.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Rose said. “You go have fun. Give me the signal if you need saving!”
